Laughing all the way from the bank

Bank history is not the most riveting of topics

Bank history is not the most riveting of topics. Nobody likes banks, and the only way of making them interesting is to describe their ignominious collapse. Barings brought low by rogue trader Nick Leeson is the classic example. Martin Vander Weyer has introduced a new formula: the vendetta as biography. He was sacked by Barclays bank and has now dumped on his former employers to sometimes hilarious effect.

In an early chapter, he pauses to discuss table manners at Barclays. The Victorians had introduced the concept of the fish knife. The Quaker founders of Barclays believed passionately that fish should only be eaten with two forks. One day, the partners of the bank arrived for luncheon in the board room to discover that the table setting included the dreaded fish knives. The general manager with responsibility for catering was summoned and his exile from Britain forthwith was decreed. He was given a choice between Australia and Barbados.

The author's father, who rose high in Barclays - though not, in his son's opinion, as high as he should - was reprimanded for scooping the Stilton from the middle and not, as everybody knows, slicing it horizontally.

The book describes the onerous business of entertaining a visiting Barclays grandee in Hong Kong. He is brought to the Kowloon Club. This is presided over by a mama-san, who selects young ladies to entertain the male customers. Protocol requires that the male inspects a range of talent before making his choice. But the Barclays man from London declares that the first woman will do and takes her off to the Mandarin Oriental, "one of the few (Hong Kong) hotels which did not allow guests to bring in nightclub tarts."

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It would be misleading to describe this book as a back-to-back romp. A good deal is devoted to Barclays' history and the complex inter-mingling of the founding families. It is interesting, though, to observe that a company could survive managerial incest for as long as Barclays. It had what was known as a Special List, employees marked down for promotion solely on the basis of who their parents were.

Barclay's great banking innovation was the Barclaycard, introduced in 1966. There are three good things about it, said an enthusiastic branch manager: it scrapes ice off your windscreen, it picks Yale locks, and it gets customers into debt.

The notion of marketing financial services was first introduced in Europe by Barclays. "Spending a weekend with your family", thundered one Barclays executive, "is a missed marketing opportunity".

Barclays was humbled by its excursions into lending outside its core High Street business. Its investment bank, BZW, devoured capital as the British aspired to have a global presence. It lost a fortune in Russia. In this connection, it is worth casting an eye over the half-yearly results from the Irish banks. Without exception, the profits are made in the domestic business - a point consumers might ponder as alternative banking opportunities present themselves.

THE title of this book is a little misleading. Though Vander Weyer may enjoy wreaking some vengeance on Barclays, the bank is still alive and kicking and has a new chief executive, an Irishman from Tralee, Matt Barrett. His track record suggests that nothing very dull will happen around Barclays while he is there.

After a 37-year career with the Bank of Montreal, he tried - but failed - to engineer a merger with the rival Royal Bank of Canada. He resigned and told a newspaper that his new objective was "to write a bad book, find my karma and grow a ponytail". (And this from a man educated by the Christian Brothers!). He was headhunted by Barclays to become chief executive in 1998. His appointment was noted by The Sun, not usually exercised by City appointments, under the headline "the £7m bonk manager". The £7 million referred to his remuneration. Barrett had divorced his wife and married a six-foot former model called Anne Marie Sten. He bought her a £50,000 emerald necklace, which she refused to wear. She wanted, she said, a diamond as big as a throat lozenge. The marriage has not lasted.

Barclays has provided some excitement in its colourful history, and under its new chief executive seems likely to continue to do so.

Jim Dunne is an Irish Times staff journalist